


Feverpitch

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has a fever... and some very interesting dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feverpitch

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in Love and Guns 3 

## Feverpitch

by J M Griffin

Author's disclaimer: Jim and Blair do not belong to me. There is no justice in this world. 

* * *

Feverpitch  
By J. M. Griffin 

When he entered the loft it was cool, quiet, peaceful. Blair wrapped the peace around himself (along with an afghan from the couch) and went to his room. He was shaking with cold and he dropped the afghan in his attempt to clear off the bed. 

He never slept here anymore. Not since he and Jim had become lovers. But Jim was at a conference in Vancouver and Blair didn't have the energy to go up the stairs to the bigger bed they now shared. He practically threw himself on the futon, pulling the sheet and blanket up close under his chin. 

He swam to a quasi-normal level of consciousness sometime later, suddenly aware that he had been watching the glasspanes in his bedroom door liquify and bubble. He knew he should get up and get some willowbark tea and try to reduce the fever, but he simply didn't have the energy. He was sweating now and in his mind the hot press of the blanket became the comforting body of his lover. 

Jim would protect him, would use his body to cover Blair completely so Lash wouldn't be able to see him. So that the crazed psycho wouldn't be able to drown him in that disgusting brew. Jim would come and release the chaffing leather cuffs. Jim would hold him tight, stroke back his hair and croon safety into his ear. Jim would chase away the chill that wracked Blair's body from head to toe. 

The shakes roused him this time and Blair struggled to lean over the edge of the bed and grab the dropped afghan. He succeeded in picking it up, but he couldn't quite get the damn thing situated over himself. His hands were shaking and his teeth chattering, so he gave up and slumped back on the pillow. 

Chattering. The voices of the people of the major crimes division welled up in Blair's ears. As he came through the squad room door, Jim's low chuckle assailed him from across the bull pen. 

"Hey, Sandburg, come look what Brown found down in records." Jim's laughter wafted through the air - turning low, seductive and suddenly Blair found himself draped across Jim's desk as the big detective pounded into him. The beat of his own pulse roared in his ears, echoed by Jim's gasps of pleasure. Waves of delicious sensation broke on the shore of his body with every fierce movement of his lover. Harder, faster. More! Blair knew he was yelling his head off and he didn't care. 

He woke with a shout, his seed spilling from him even as he jerked up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, his jeans were a sticky mess, his shirt soaked with sweat. With a groan, Blair forced himself out of bed and tottered the few steps to the bathroom. Once there, he struggled to shuck off his shirt, then gave up and had a go at peeling off his pants. He was standing on one foot tugging at his jeans leg when he lost his balance and fell. A grab at the towel rack kept him from hitting his head on the sink. Plopping down on the closed toilet seat, he leaned his cheek against the basin. 

The cool porcelain felt good against his burning skin, but before long he was shaking and shivering again. Blair longed for the comfort of Jim's warm body. The thought of Jim gave him the energy he needed to kick his jeans off. Groggily, he headed back to bed. Good thing it wasn't very far. Except now he couldn't seem to get warm. Pulling the afghan close, he took it with him under the covers. 

He was floating on a lake of liquid nothing. For a time, the viscous fluid held him, buoyed him up and cradled his entire body in its cool arms. Then he began sinking. Slowly, inexorably, the ooze crept up his body, inch by chilling inch. It changed from a soft bluish white to lurid green as it encompassed first his legs, then his torso and arms. Finally, he was up to his neck in it and his survival instincts kicked in. Blair fought and screamed, straining to keep his mouth above the awful stuff, all in vain.. A gulp of it gagged him and he... 

Awoke coughing and sputtering, tears streaming down his face. The walls of his bedroom were closing in, bringing oppressive darkness. Blair turned his head into the pillow and sobbed miserably into it. 

"Blair? Blair baby... Aw shit. You're a mess." 

Strong arms bore him up and out of his narrow bed and he floated on them all the way up the stairs. 

"Aww baby. Baby, baby, baby... Why didn't you call me?" A disembodied voice crooned. 

"Jim?" Blair croaked out the question, but he didn't need to hear the answer. 

"I knew some thing was wrong. Just couldn't put my finger on what." Jim's whispered words caressed Blair's ears as the bigger man tugged off his soggy shirt. Next, a clean t-shirt slid down over his head, obscuring Jim's word's for a brief instant. "...you'll feel better." 

Blair clutched at the front of Jim's shirt, hung on for dear life as he watched the usually light, airy ceiling of the upper loft fill with dark blue storm clouds. He tried to warn Jim, but his teeth were chattering too hard for him to get the words out. 

"Damn," Jim swore. "You must have a fever of at least one hundred and four. Chief, Chief?" His lover gave him a little shake to get his attention. "I think I better get you to the hospital." 

"No, no," Blair was just coherent enough to know he didn't want that. "It's just the flu. Every one at the university has it." 

He wanted to say "I'm all right now that you're here," but he was too tired. Nestled in Jim's warm embrace, he had stopped shaking. 

"I'll be back in a minute with something to bring down your fever." Blair heard a bit later. There was a gentle touch on his cheek and Jim was gone. He was comfortable now and relaxed, as in the aftermath of good sex. The bed rocked in a sweet undulation when Jim returned to him and made him drink something. A warm languor enveloped him and he knew he was once again safe in the arms of his love. 

Blair woke with a blink. Found it hadn't been a dream, he was indeed held in the circle of Jim's arms. 

Jim smiled down at him. "Feeling better, darlin'? 

"What? How?" Blair sputtered. "How long have you been home?" 

Jim chuckled. "Long enough to keep you from climbing the walls after the pink elephants." 

"What?" Blair squeaked. 

"Shhhh, it's all right, Chief. Let's just say you had one hell of a fever." 

**FINIS**

* * *

End Feverpitch. 


End file.
